Remember Me
by heiressofanor
Summary: Remus came to Prof. X to ask for help in finding his long-lost sister, but what he discovered at the school re-opened old hurts that he'd long thought dead and buried.
1. Chapter 1: First Meetings

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything X-Men or Harry Potter! Basically, if you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Spoilers: X-Men after X-Men: The Movie, but before X2 (Logan doesn't leave though); HP takes place before series, but after the Potters' deaths.**

**AN: I tried my best to make the timelines mesh; my Remus is born in 1966, so I adjusted the X-Men timeline accordingly to make this work. Also, X-Men story line meshes together all the movies (including Origins & First Class, but not The Wolverine because I haven't gotten around to watching that one yet) with a little bit of the cartoon X-Men: Evolution. This is mostly just for Kitty and Kurt, because I don't like how the movies portrayed Kitty and I see Kurt as more of a mix between movie Kurt and teenage Evo Kurt. Other than those two, pretty much everything else is movie verse. And yes, I have made the trilogy, Origins, & FC work together...at least it makes sense in my head. My Victor Creed/Sabretooth is the Sabretooth from Origins played by Liev Schreiber.**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 1: First Meetings<strong>

_**November 21, 1994**_**:** "Mr. Lupin? I'm terribly sorry to have kept you waiting. I'm Professor Charles Xavier. Please come in." A regal bald man in a wheelchair led his tall, thin guest into his office. "Have a seat, please," he offered as the tall man shut the door behind them. "Now," Xavier said as his guest sat, "what can I help you with, Mr. Lupin?"

When the tall, sandy-haired man spoke, his voice was low and hoarse. "Professor Dumbledore told me that you could help me, sir," he said quietly.

Professor Xavier raised his eyebrow. "Oh? And what does Albus think that I can help you with?" he asked.

"He said that you could help me find my sister."

"Ah," said Charles, steepling his fingers in front of his face. "And why does he think that?"

Lupin shrugged. "All he told me is that if anyone can help, it's you; he said that you're the best man for the job."

"Hm. And when was the last time you saw your sister, Mr. Lupin?"

"She was just a baby, so…about sixteen years ago. And please call me Remus. Mr. Lupin was my grandfather and he never really cared for me."

Xavier filed that odd bit of information away for later. "Remus, if you haven't seen her in sixteen years, it will be near impossible to find her."

"Believe me, I know," said Remus with a sigh, running his long, elegant fingers through his shaggy blonde-brown hair. "I've been searching for her nearly the entire time she's been gone."

"Do you have anything that might help me find her?" asked Charles.

Remus pulled a well-worn photograph out of his jeans' pocket. "This is a picture of baby Marie and our Aunt Joan—Mum said that Marie looked just like her sister did as a baby. It's better than nothing, right?"

"Indeed," said Charles, staring at the strikingly familiar young woman holding baby Marie. "Would you mind if I held on to this for a while?" Seeing Remus' uncertainty, he added, "I'll take good care of it, I promise. I should have it back to you some time tomorrow."

"If it would help…" said Remus somewhat reluctantly.

"It would."

"Alright..."

"Thank you, Remus," said Charles. "I'll have one of my colleagues show you to your room."

"That's not necess—"

"I insist," said Charles, looking up as the door was pushed open quietly. "Ah, Scott, would you please show my guest to one of the spare rooms in the teachers' wing?"

**XXXX**

"Here you are," said Scott, opening the door and gesturing Remus into the comfortable guest room. "Make yourself at home."

"Thank you," said Remus, setting his battered briefcase on the bed and glancing around the room.

"You're welcome," said Scott. "The bathroom is down the hall," he added. "Feel free to eat anything in the kitchen that's not labeled with someone's name and if you have any questions, just find me or one of the other teachers; we're all roomed in this wing."

"Again, thank you," said Remus. "I'm actually feeling a bit knackered, so…"

"Oh, of course. Welcome to Xavier's School for the Gifted; I hope you enjoy your stay." Scott left the room quietly, shutting the door behind him.

**XXXX**

Remus, despite his utter exhaustion, couldn't sleep. He had lain in bed for three hours with no relief and he was getting desperate. Finally giving up, he decided to make himself some tea. Tea always made him feel better; that and chocolate. Chocolate cured _everything_ (except possibly a stomachache from eating too much chocolate and even _that_ was debatable). Groaning, Remus sat up and bent over, groping for the boots he had shoved under his bed. Uttering a soft cry of success, he shoved his socked feet into them carelessly, his old Gryffindor pajama pants bunching oddly as they were half shoved into said boots. His feet properly shod (sort of), he stood up and cracked his neck, groaning as he felt his spine realign properly. Godric, he felt so old sometimes. He padded over to the door (he had charmed his boots to be silent years ago) and grabbed his faded and worn formerly navy blue robe (it had once belonged to his father and still held the faintest scent of him even after all these years). He pulled it on over his tatty white sleep shirt, leaving it untied. He then opened the door, peering around cautiously (old habits die hard—CONSTANT VIGILANCE! and all that rot) before stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.

**XXXX**

Remus was lost; totally and completely lost. The mansion was far larger than he had anticipated. He felt like he had been wandering around for hours (it had actually been no more than forty-five minutes). "Can I help you?" asked a decidedly feminine someone. Remus was startled; he had been so absorbed in his own melancholy and frustration that he hadn't noticed that he was no longer alone.

"I uh—I'm looking for the kitchen, but I think I'm lost."

The mysterious woman laughed musically. "I'll say. You're about three floors above the kitchen and in the wrong wing."

"Oh bugger."

"You're Charles' guest, aren't you?" she asked, her face still too shadowed for Remus to make out.

"Yes. Remus Lupin," he said, holding out his hand.

"Ororo Munroe," she replied, stepping into the light and shaking his hand.

Remus was smitten. The woman standing in front of him was undoubtedly a goddess. Flawless skin the color of hot cocoa, eyes the color of the midday sky, and hair as white as snow. She was of average height, standing less than a foot shorter than him and she appeared to be around his own age, if not a bit older. "A pleasure," he finally said, forcing himself back to the present.

"Likewise," she replied. "Would you like me to take you to the kitchen?"

"If it's not too much of a bother…"

"Of course not; come with me."

Ororo took Remus' hand and his brain once again shut down. _So this is what Prongs felt like when he first met Lily_, he thought as this exotic beauty led him through the empty halls.

**XXXX**

Ororo started as Remus set a mug of some hot liquid in front of her before taking the seat beside her. "I was planning on making tea," admitted Remus at Ororo's questioning glance, "but when I saw that you had hot cocoa, I changed my mind."

Ororo smiled brightly at the younger man. "How did you know?" she asked, sipping her cocoa contentedly.

Remus shrugged, sipping his own. "Chocolate makes everything better," he said. "Besides, who _doesn't_ like chocolate?"

Ororo laughed. "True," she admitted. "It's very good."

"Well, I can't take too much credit; it was a mix."

"You're too modest," teased Ororo. "What's your secret?"

"Milk," said Remus. "It makes for much better cocoa than water does."

Ororo laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

The two sat in companionable silence while they finished their cocoa, almost as if they had known each other forever. Then it all went to Hell. "Whatcha doin' up so late, Ro?"

Remus' head whipped around so fast that Ororo swore she heard something crack. His amber eyes narrowed at Logan for a half a second before his face went completely blank. Without speaking, Remus pushed his chair out from the table and walked calmly out of the room, not once looking back. Ororo slapped Logan upside the head. "What's that for, Ro?" he asked as Ororo cradled her sore hand.

"You made Remus leave," she complained.

"I made who leave?"

"Remus, Charles' guest—the man who was sitting in here with me before _you_ barged in."

"Oh, him. Looks a bit sick, don' he?"

"Shut up, Logan," said Ororo. "I was enjoying his company and his hot chocolate and _you_ made him leave!"

"What the hell'd I do?"

"I don't know, _you_ tell _me_!"

"Never seen him before in my life."

"And considering you remember nothing earlier than fifteen years ago, that means so much," she said.

Logan shrugged. "Maybe he knew me before, then. He looks like he could be old enough. He'd still probably've been a kid, but maybe he recognized me."

Ororo narrowed her bright, blue eyes dangerously. "I'm going to go find him, Logan," she snapped, "and when I bring him back, you'd better apologize for…for…for whatever it is you did." Not waiting for a reply, Ororo stood up and stormed out of the kitchen. Left behind, Logan simply shrugged and dug through the fridge for his not-so-secret stash of beer.

**XXXX**

Remus' calm face was a façade. Inside, his mind was in turmoil. Over and over in his head he relived one of the worst moments in his life…

**XXXX**

_**December 24, 1977**_**:** It was Remus Lupin's first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and he had decided to come home for Christmas. While he was making friends for the first time in his memory (Jessi Martini and Sirius Black wouldn't have it any other way—not to mention his cousin James Potter), he was desperately homesick. He had been pleasantly surprised to be picked up from the train station not by his magical mother Alexandra Lupin, but by his muggle father James Howlett. Eleven-year-old Remus promptly abandoned his dignity upon seeing the man and ran to him (in full view of all his friends), jumping into his father's arms and allowing the compactly built man to swing him around in his strong arms and ruffle his tawny blondish-brown hair fondly, a sparkle of amusement in his brown eyes. After greeting Remus' friends (with a special ruffle to James' hair—he _was_ named after Remus' dad, after all, and was also his godson), father and son left on Remus' dad's motorbike (his mum would have a conniption if she ever found out).

Nothing exceptional happened over break until Christmas Eve. That night was the first night of the December full moon and Remus' dad decided to take his son out for the day—partly to wind him down and get his mind off his impending transformation and partly to do some last minute Christmas shopping. Father and son went about the town together—James telling Remus stories about growing up with his brother Victor Creed and Remus amusing his dad with the many escapades he and his friends got up to on a regular basis at Hogwarts.

The pair was laughing so hard that they didn't hear the multiple pops of apparition behind them. It wasn't until the first spell grazed past James' ear that they realized that they were surrounded by several masked wizards in black robes. Growling, James pushed his son behind him, shielding the boy from harm. James and the wizards exchanged words; all Remus really understood was that they wanted him and his dad dead. Remus' eyes widened in shock as he saw bone claws suddenly extend from his father's hands. Pushing Remus to the ground and telling him to "stay down," James gave a loud roar of anger and attacked the wizards with great frenzy, his claws flying nearly as fast as their spells.

Soon there was only one wizard left. Remus found himself staring at the tip of a wand, which was slowly gathering eerie green light, and he knew in that instant that he was going to die. Dimly he heard a roar of pain/anger/ anguish, but he ignored it and closed his eyes, praying for his death to be painless and quick. But instead of welcoming darkness, there was—nothing. He opened his eyes when he heard a soft thump and stared in horror. His father had killed the final wizard, but in the process he had not dodged the _Avada Kedavra_ that had been aimed at his son. James Logan Howlett was dead.

**XXXX**

_**Present Day**_**:** "Remus, please! Wait!"

Remus stopped and waited for Ororo to catch up to him. "I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly," he apologized, staring at the floor, arms hugging his chest. "It was exceedingly rude of me.

"Never mind that, Remus. What happened? What did Logan _do_ to you?"

"Ah. So he goes by Logan now," Remus said dully.

"What happened, Remus?" Ororo persisted.

"I saw him die."

**XXXX**

_**November 22, 1994**_**:** Remus hadn't slept a wink after he'd parted ways with Ororo last night. He was so out of it as he made his way down to the kitchen around seven AM that he didn't even notice the multitude of curious looks he was getting from the students who were just getting up and starting their day. It was only thanks to his near photographic memory and pure luck that he made it down to the kitchen without getting lost.

Once he found the kitchen, he was at a loss. He had no idea where anything was and every bit of manners that had been drilled into him by his aunt told him that it would be very rude indeed to start rummaging around willy-nilly. He stood in the open doorway like a statue for a good ten minutes before someone finally took pity on him.

"You're new here, aren't you?"

Remus blinked and looked down at the smiling teenage girl who had spoken. "I-I'm a guest of Professor Xavier," he said. "I wasn't- I-I just—"

The girl, who wore her long chestnut hair pulled up in a high ponytail, grinned and tugged on Remus' sleeve gently. "C'mon; I'll show you around. We're pretty informal breakfast-wise here, but most of the teachers are done and headed to class before seven."

"Oh. That's good to know." Remus allowed himself to be dragged all around the large kitchen as the girl pointed out where different foodstuffs were located.

"Anything is pretty much up for grabs, unless someone's put their name on it," said the girl, showing him the industrial size fridge and freezer. "There's always extra stuff out in the big freezer we keep in the main garage," she added. "With so many kids here, we go through a lot of food. Some of the kids—and the teachers—have high metabolisms and need to consume large amounts of food to keep themselves going. The Professor likes to make sure to accommodate for any possible scenario, so you'll find a wide variety of food to choose from at any time."

Remus looked around, dazed. "I'm getting that."

"Breakfast is pretty much self-serve," she continued. "The teachers take care of the littlest kids around six thirty, but after that it's all up for grabs. Lunch is generally done communally; we all pitch in to pull something together. Dinner rotates on a schedule. Each professor and a group of students are assigned a day to be in charge of putting the meal together. We have leftover days on the weekends, except for special occasions. Of course, sometimes a few of the teachers or the older kids will go out, but there's always at least one teacher here besides the Professor." Remus was in awe of how much this girl could talk. "Are you good finding breakfast now?"

"Tea?" Remus croaked.

The girl giggled and reached into a cupboard above the stove. "Here you go," she said, handing him a box of English Breakfast tea. "The Professor likes this one. Kettle's on the stove. It should be full; most of the kids and teachers here prefer coffee. If not, feel free to fill it in the sink. I'm Kitty, by the way." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Oops, I have to go. I've got class in ten. Mugs are above the sink. Enjoy!" She snagged an apple out of a bowl on the island and ran off so fast that Remus almost wasn't sure she had been there in the first place.

He stood there blinking for a moment. That girl was something else. He'd never met someone who could talk quite as much (or as fast) as her. He shook himself awake and proceeded to set the kettle to boil. While he waited, he rummaged around the fridge a bit before deciding to cook up some eggs and bacon. Maybe this wasn't shaping up to be such a bad day after all.

**XXXX**

"You wanted ta see me, Professor?"

"Yes, please come in, Rogue."

The brunette girl stepped into his office and shut the door. She sat down on the chair in front of his desk and nervously tucked her white strand of hair behind her ear. "Am ah in trouble, Professor?" she asked.

The Professor wheeled his chair out from behind the desk and stopped beside her. 'Of course not, Rogue," he said.

"Then why am ah here?" The Professor wordlessly handed her a picture, the same one that Remus had handed to him the night before. "Professor, ah don't—"

"Does anything in this picture look familiar to you, Rogue?"

Rogue stared at the picture, enraptured. "A-ah know this," she said, brown eyes wide. "Ah've seen this baby before; ah'm sure of it."

The Professor was slightly surprised by that response; he'd been expecting a reaction about the woman, who he thought looked quite a bit like Rogue. "The baby?" He looked over her shoulder to glance again at the photograph. "You're sure."

Rogue nodded. "A-ah was adopted when ah was a baby; ah have a locket from mah birth family and it has a picture inside it of a little boy and a baby girl. Ah know ah'm the baby girl and the baby in this picture looks exactly like that one." She looked up at him, eyes hopeful. "Professor, is this me?"

"I believe so, Rogue," he replied, "though it was the woman who caught my eye and not the baby. Does she look familiar to you?"

Rogue took a moment and scrutinized the woman in the picture. Her brown hair hung down past her shoulders in slight waves and her blue eyes sparkled as she stared at the child, frozen forever in time. "Sh-she looks a bit like me," she said, awe in her voice. "Is-is this mah _mother_?"

The Professor sighed. "According to the young man who gave me the picture, no she is not. If you are indeed the child in that photograph, then that woman is your aunt; your mother's sister."

Rogue looked at the woman with a new perspective. "We have the same eyes," she said softly. "Ah mean, the color is different, but the shape is identical. And ah have her nose." She looked up at the Professor, hope filling her eyes. "Professor," she said, "is this real?"

"Very real, my dear," he said, smiling at her.

"A-and the man who gave this to you?" she said, her hold on the photo tightening. "Is he still here?"

"Indeed he is," replied the Professor. "He is currently residing in one of the guest rooms in the teachers' wing."

"He-he must know more about me—about _this_—if he had this picture. Can ah meet him? Maybe he can tell me about mah parents."

The Professor put his hand on the teen's shoulder. "I should imagine he will be delighted to meet you, Rogue," he said. "First, however, I must tell you the rest of the story that goes with that photograph."

"There's more?" Rogue said, her focus intent on the photo in her hands.

"Yes there is," he replied. "The young man who gave that to me came looking for my help in finding someone dear to him, someone who he has not seen in many years."

"Who?" she asked.

"He is looking for his sister; a girl, about sixteen-years-old, named Marie."

Her gaze shot up from the picture to stare at the Professor. "M-Marie? You think ah could be the sister?"

"More and more each passing moment," he replied, his crystal blue eyes serious. "I think that you just might be."

"Can- can ah meet him?" she asked.

"Certainly, Rogue. I can have one of the teachers bring him up her right now, if you'd like."

"N-no," she said, "ah need some time to think. Can Logan meet him with me? Ah don't want to be alone."

"Certainly," replied the Professor. "I shall facilitate the meeting, so I shall be there as well."

"Thank you, Professor."

"How does this afternoon sound? After the lunch rush, perhaps?"

"That sounds perfect, Professor."

**XXXX**

"Remus Lupin?" Remus thought he vaguely recognized the brunette man with the strange looking sunglasses as the man who'd shown him to his room the night before, but he hadn't been paying much attention to anything last night…until he met Ororo.

"That's what my birth certificate says," he responded, looking up from the _fascinating_ novel he was reading (not that he could even recall the title) in the ground floor lounge.

"The Professor would like to see you in his office."

"Well, we mustn't keep the Professor waiting, must we?" said Remus. He'd missed lunch (the crush of hungry students proved to be more than he could handle) and was feeling a bit snarky. Not that this man (mid-thirties, was Remus' best guess) seemed to notice, what with the stick jammed up his arse and all.

Remus followed Glasses Man (he was still working on what to call him) up the stairs and through a variety of corridors. They eventually stopped in front of a familiar set of double doors. Glasses Man knocked. "Professor," he said, "your guest is here."

"Come in," called the Professor, his voice muffled by the heavy wooden doors.

Remus pushed open the double doors to make a dramatic entrance. As the doors were pulled shut behind him (by Glasses Man, he presumed), he saw who was in the room and wished that he hadn't drawn so much attention to himself. "What's _he_ doing here?" he spat, spotting Logan sitting on the couch under the window.

The older man's dark brown eyes narrowed. "Look, bub, I don' know what yer problem is with me, but I'm here for Marie. This ain't got nothin' ta do with ya."

The Professor cleared his throat loudly. "I'm afraid that this meeting has everything to do with Remus, Logan. He's the reason we are gathered here this afternoon."

"You're the one who brought the picture?" asked the girl sitting beside Logan. Remus almost hadn't noticed her, she was so quiet.

He stared at her in wonder. Other than the odd streak of white in her brown hair, she looked like a younger version of his beloved Aunt Joan. "Y-you're her," he said. "You're really her."

"Look, bub, I dunno who ya think she is, but—"

"Marie Julia Lupin, born August 18, 1978 and given up for adoption two months later after the death of her mother," he said in an odd sort of detached voice. "You know her?"

"Logan's the one who brought me here to the Institute," she said, looking Remus in the eye. "He's my friend."

"Of course he is," Remus sighed, running his hands through his shaggy mop of hair and beginning to pace in front of the Professor's desk.

"Remus, I don't know what sort of problem you have with Logan," said the Professor, "but surely you can set it aside for the moment; for Marie's sake."

"Of course," he said. "What was I thinking holding a grudge against the man who apparently abandoned me without a second thought seventeen years ago."

"Look, bub," growled Logan, "I've never met ya before."

Remus' laughter was near hysterical. "Never met me? That's rich! I suppose then those first eleven years of my life were just my imagination then?"

"Logan doesn't have any memories before fifteen years ago," said Rogue.

"That's bloody wonderful," said Remus, flopping down into an armchair near the fireplace. "Now I feel like a right prat."

"Perhaps if you told us how you know Logan?" suggested the Professor.

"This was supposed to be about Marie, not me," said Remus, not entirely comfortable with where this particular conversation was heading.

"I-if ah'm your Marie, shouldn't mah opinion count?" asked Rogue.

"Of course," said Remus, his anger deflating. "For the record, I'm nearly one hundred percent certain you are my sister Marie."

Rogue nodded, her brown eyes guarded. "Can you tell me about mah—our—parents?"

"I can, if you'd like. Actually, that's tied in with how I know _Logan_. Would you like me to tell you now or shall we gather at another time?"

"I-if the Professor and Logan aren't busy now would be good."

"I have cleared my schedule for the rest of the day, Rogue," said the Professor.

"I already told ya I'm here for ya, kid," replied Logan.

"Very well," said Remus. "I suggest you get comfortable then. This could take a while."

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><p><strong>Reviews are very much appreciated! Flames are not.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: Past Meets Present

**AN: A quick note on Kurt/Nightcrawler: I've set his age as being somewhere between Remus' 28 and Rogue's 16. And yes, there is a very good chance that Kurt will become a large part of this story...which means I get to delve into his background and make things work together how I want them to work! Yay! ;)**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 2: Past Meets Present<strong>

_**November 22, 1994**_**: **"Our parents met in the summer of 1964. Mum had just graduated from secondary school and had decided to go out celebrating with some friends. They went out drinking and dancing in London one evening and she somehow wound up separated from the others. She was a bit sloshed and unfamiliar with the city. She wound up down the wrong street and was being mugged by a couple of nasty thugs when Dad showed up on the scene. He told her after that he usually didn't do the whole rescuing the damsel in distress thing, but something about her drew him in. He jumped right in and beat up the thugs and took Mum to the inn he was staying at with his brother.

"When Mum woke the next morning in a strange room, she panicked. Dad liked to tell how she nearly scalped him with her fingernails, but she always insisted that she barely scratched him. Once Mum had calmed down a bit, Dad was able to explain what had happened the night before. Mum was so grateful that she offered to buy him a drink to thank him. He laughed in her face and told her that she couldn't hold her liquor. Mum had a bit of a temper and yelled at him in about three different languages, insulting his parentage, his manhood, and his honor. Dad just laughed at her. Truth be told, he was amused. Mum was all of five foot five to his six two; short of height and temper, but never on brains or beauty. Once her temper had steamed off, Dad agreed to go out for a drink.

"After that one date, they didn't meet again until about three months later. Mum's older sister, our Aunt Joan, was getting married at her fiancé's estate just outside of London and Mum was the maid of honor. For the hen party, Mum and Aunt Joan went clubbing in the city with some girlfriends. This time Dad saw Mum before she got into any kind of trouble. It was the first bar they hit and Mum was only a few shot in when Dad came up and asked her to dance. She recognized him right away and accepted. Now, she was either more sloshed than she ever admitted to Aunt Joan or she had a sudden fit of impulsiveness because she asked Dad to be her date to her sister's wedding. Dad accepted.

"They started officially dating after Aunt Joan married Uncle Chris. It was nearly a year to the day of their first meeting when Dad proposed to her and she accepted. The trouble started when Mum and Dad went to tell Grandfather Lupin that they were engaged. The Lupin family is what we like to call old money and Grandfather felt that Dad was so far beneath Mum that he was dirt on her shoes. Not only did he come from a family of no consequence, but he had no money or home to speak of and, to add insult to injury, he was from the Americas. It didn't matter to Grandfather that Dad was actually Canadian; the whole continent was bad news to him. When Mum refused to break off the engagement, Grandfather disowned her.

"Dad had actually been saving up money for a while and was not as destitute as Grandfather thought. He used that money to buy a small piece of land outside Lancaster and that's where they got married. I came along about eight months later and life was good for a while. When I was four, I was in an accident that scarred me for life and left my immune system completely wrecked. Mum was devastated and Dad was determined; he spent every last bit of money he had saved up trying to find a way to cure me of my ailment, to no avail.

"When I was eleven, I got accepted into the same secondary school that Mum had attended. I was so happy to be able to go, despite my poor health. Mum and Dad were so proud of me when I got my acceptance letter. And so I went away to school, returning for Christmas break to spend time with my parents.

"That Christmas Eve, Dad and I went for a walk into the nearest town to buy some last minute gifts and supplies. That was the night our lives went to hell. Dad and I were attacked that night by a group of terrorists who thought that people like Mum shouldn't mix with people like Dad. Dad was amazing; he fought them off left and right, but one got through. I remember staring death in the face and knowing it would be my end. I closed my eyes and when I opened them…Dad had killed my attacker, but in the process he had been killed as well.

"Mum found out she was pregnant again after I went back to school. She slowly grew weaker and weaker as the baby grew; Aunt Joan said that she always knew it was only a matter of time. Marie Julia Lupin was born in August of 1978. She was a beautiful baby with a head full of dark hair, like Dad's. I was instantly smitten with her; she was so tiny and fragile, but she was mine. I loved her with all my heart and I always thought I'd have my whole life to show her how much she meant to me.

"Mum died in October of that same year. Her health finally gave out and she simply didn't wake up one morning. She and Marie had been living with Aunt Joan ever since Dad had been killed, so at least neither was alone. After Mum died, Aunt Joan and Uncle Chris wanted to take both Marie and myself in. They only had one child, our cousin James who was only seventeen days younger than me, but had always wanted more. Their hopes were dashed by a bigoted Ministry. They were told that they would have to choose between Marie or me; the adorable little baby girl who had every chance in the world of being adopted by a good family or the damaged and sickly pre-teen boy who was more trouble than he was worth. Sometimes I wonder if they made the right choice.

"So that is the story of our family, right from the beginning. I tell it to you as it was told to me by Aunt Joan."

Rogue was speechless. "S-so, our parents are dead? They didn't give me up because they didn't want me?"

"Oh no, Marie," said Remus gently, "They wanted you very much. They always talked about having a big family, but Mum was never able to conceive after me…until you."

"An' how do I fit into this story of yours?" asked Logan. "You ain't said nothin' 'bout me; I thought you said it all tied together.'

"It does," said Remus shortly. "Our Mum was Alexandra Julia Lupin, eldest daughter of Johnathan Lupin. Our father…his name was James Logan Howlett and the only family he ever talked about was his older half-brother, Victor Creed." At Logan's blank stare Remus huffed in frustration and added, "You're James Logan Howlett, _Dad_."

"That's imposs—I _can't_ be—I'd remember—"

"Logan, you don't remember anything before fifteen years ago," said the Professor.

"I watched my father die seventeen years ago," said Remus. "I don't know how it is that you are still alive, because I know what I saw."

"So, what," snapped Logan, "yer upset cause yer old man ain't as dead as ya thought? Some son you are, bub."

"No," said Remus, amber eyes flashing dangerously, "I'm _upset_ because my father has apparently been alive for seventeen years and never once bothered to come let me know."

"Look, bub, the Professor told ya—"

"That you lost your memories fifteen years ago, yes. But what about those two years before you lost them? Did you just suddenly decide that having a kid—kids—was too hard? Why didn't you come back? Did you think I would have cared that you weren't really dead? I would have given _anything_ to have my father back."

"Look, kid," said Logan, his voice softening, "I'd love to tell ya why I did what I did, but I just _don't know_. The first thing I remember is waking up on Three Mile Island after being shot in the head. The only reason I had any idea of what to call myself was because of my dog tags and some guy who seemed to know me finding me on that beach."

Remus was silent, staring into the empty fireplace in contemplation. "I suppose we shall never know then," he finally said, his voice clipped. "Thank you for your time, Professor," he added, standing up and crossing over to shake Charles' hand.

"You are very welcome, Remus," said the Professor warmly. "Please stay here as long as you'd like."

"Thank you." He turned to Rogue and added, "Marie, please feel free to seek me out whenever you are ready. I promise not to push. It was wonderful to meet you." He shook her gloved hand, shot a glare at Logan, and left the room.

"Professor," said Rogue, staring out the open door, "would you mind if ah—"

"Of course not, Rogue. You may handle this as you see fit. Just know, we are all here for you."

"Thanks, Professor." Rogue shot an uncertain smile at Logan and fled out the door.

"Don' tell me Marie actually took off after that kid," said Logan, lounging further into the sofa. He pulled out a cigar from his shirt pocket and absently began to chew on it.

"How Rogue deals with this rather unique situation is entirely up to her," replied Charles. "I refuse to influence her one way or another; I am simply here to guide and to advise."

Logan let out a bark of laughter. "Sure, Chuck," he said. "What advice d'ya got for me?"

Charles raised his eyebrow. "You, my friend, are another story entirely. We've tried nearly everything I can think of to restore your memories and yet…"

"Still no memories," said Logan, rapping his forehead with his knuckles. "Any new bright ideas?"

"Perhaps," said Charles slowly. "There is one thing I haven't tried."

"Well? What are we waiting for? If what the kid said is true…" Logan clenched his jaw and his eyes were filled with turmoil. "If what he said is true, I haveta know, Chuck. What kind of man was I that I would abandon my wife and kid?"

Charles smiled sadly. "I'm sure you had your reasons, Logan."

He snorted. "Yeah, but were they good enough?"

"I wish I could tell you that, my friend. Give me a day to sort things out and I may have a solution to your problem."

Logan raised a dark eyebrow. "Just like that?"

Charles smirked, an odd look on his kind face. "I have many friends in high places, Logan. When I put my mind to it, there's little I can't achieve."

**XXXX**

Besides Logan, Rogue's closest friend at the mansion was a young mutant just a few years older than her. He was a mischievous teleporter who, like herself, was an orphan. It was this shared beginning that had brought the two together shortly after Rogue's arrival at Xavier's. Kurt Wagner might look like a demon with his blue skin, pointed tail, and fangs, but he had a heart of gold and always sought out the best in others. He was firm in his faith, but never pestered Rogue (or anyone else) to conform to his beliefs. He was the only person besides Logan she allowed to call her by her given name.

The first place she always looked for her furry friend was the small chapel on the ground, situated behind the main house back where the grassy lawns gave way to lush trees. Rogue gently pushed open the wooden door and called out, "Hello? Kurt?"

A _poof_ and a cloud of blue smoke announced the German mutant's arrival. "Guten tag, Marie," he said, baring his fangs in a smile that reached all the way to his glowing yellow eyes.

"Hi Kurt," she said, attempting to reciprocate, but falling flat.

"Vat is the matter, Marie?" he asked kindly, placing a three-fingered hand on her shoulder.

Rogue finally lost her composure, tears falling from her chocolate brown eyes in a steady stream. "Oh Kurt," she sobbed. "Ah don't know what to do."

He guided her over to one of the pews and sat down with her. "Tell me vat is wrong, meine freundin."

Rogue sniffed and wiped at her nose with the long arm of her glove. "Ah just found mah birth family, Kurt," she said, 'and ah'm not sure what to do. Ah don't even know how ah'm supposed to react to this, fer cryin' out loud!"

Kurt gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Der is no right way for you to act, Marie," he said. "Your feelings are your own and no one can tell you vat you must feel." He pulled the young woman close, letting her lay her head on his shoulder. "Tell me about dis family of yours, meine Marie."

Rogue closed her eyes as Kurt gently ran his thick fingers through her hair. "Ah have a brother," she said quietly. "He's about a decade older than me, ah think. He's spent most of mah life looking for me."

"Vat is he like?"

"Well, he seems kind…mostly. He's holding on to a lot of anger toward his—_our_—father."

"This is upsetting to you?"

"Well, yeah. It's just…he says that _Logan_ is our father. He said that Logan abandoned him when he was a kid. Well, he said that he watched his dad die, but since Logan's here that obviously didn't happen. Ah just don't know what ah'm supposed to do, Kurt!" She buried her face in her gloved hands. "It's just too much," she said softly.

"Oh Marie," Kurt said gently. "Your feelings are perfectly normal. You are very close with Logan and you do not like someone else—a stranger, truly—pointing out his flaws to you. But you must remember that your Logan is a very different person that your brother's Logan. There are at least seventeen years between the two, vith the scars of many battles, both mental and physical, and a fractured memory along the vay. In many vays, your brother still sees Logan through the eyes of a hurting child and vill react to him thusly. You, on the other hand, see Logan as your protector and friend; vether you know it or not, you already see him as a brother or father figure. I think that it is your brother and his issues with Logan that are causing you grief."

Rogue lifted her head from her hands and gave the blue mutant a small smile. "How do you always know just what ah need to hear, Kurt?"

Kurt shrugged, his cheeks blushing slightly purple. "It is my gift, miene freundin. You know that I am always here for you, ya?"

"Of course, Kurt," she replied, giving him a genuine smile. "You're mah best friend."

"And you are mine, Marie," he replied, hugging the young woman tightly.

**XXXX**

Remus was sitting in the guest room he had been given, gently turning over the pages in a worn, leather bound book when Rogue sought him out after her talk with Kurt. "Remus?" she called softly, standing in the open doorway of the room.

Remus looked up and Rogue saw that he had tear tracks down his cheeks and his eyes were red and puffy. "Oh, hello Marie," he croaked. "I-I was just looking through some albums from- from when I was a kid."

Rogue stepped softly into the room. "Mind if ah join you?" she asked, her eyes betraying her nerves.

Remus' kind face melted into a smile. "Of course not." He scooted over on the bed to make room. "Come sit," he invited. "I don't bite—much."

Rogue returned his lopsided smile with one of her own and gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed. She glanced down at the open album lying on Remus' lap. One picture in particular caught her eye. "Is that—"

"Me and Dad," said Remus softly, a sad sort of smile spreading across his face. "That was taken the morning before he died."

Rogue leaned in closer. "Ah know you said Logan is our dad, but this…"

"It's different to actually see it for yourself," said Remus knowingly.

"Yeah. Were you close?" she asked.

"Before he died—left, whatever you want to call it—we were very close. Before I left for school, he was my best friend. Our cousin James was my age, but we rarely saw each other before we headed off to school. Dad was always there for me, whether I had a scraped knee or just needed someone to play pirates with me. My favorite thing, though, was when Dad would tuck me in at night and tell me stories about his life growing up and traveling with his big brother."

"I didn't know Logan had a brother," said Rogue, fascinated.

"I guess that's one more thing he forgot," said Remus bitterly.

"It's not his fault," snapped Rogue, defending her protector.

Remus sighed. "Logically I know this, Marie," he said, "but it's very hard to put into practice. I mourned him, Marie. I watched him die in front of me and then I had to watch our mother wither away from his loss even as you grew inside of her." Rogue was silent as Remus turned the page. "This is her," he said softly, pointing to the picture of a smiling blonde woman. Her hair was cropped to her shoulders and styled in an almost modern way. Her eyes were a sparkling blue that glinted with mischief and vitality. In the photo, she stared straight at the camera, smiling a toothy smile as if she had been laughing. "Dad liked to take pictures of her," Remus said softly, gently touching the picture with his rough finger. "He'd sometimes walk around with the camera just so that he could catch her off guard. She always complained, but secretly she loved it."

"They loved each other," observed Rogue.

"Very much," replied Remus.

Rogue turned the page to see another picture of a young Remus and Logan. Remus, who looked to be about seven or eight, was perched on Logan's shoulders, tugging on the wings of his hairdo (the same one he still wore) and laughing happily. "Do you think you could ever forgive him?" asked Rogue gazing fixedly on the happy image of times gone by.

Remus sighed. "I don't know, Marie," he admitted. "I loved him very much and he abandoned me. I understand that he lost his memory fifteen years ago, but that still leaves two years unaccounted for. Maybe if I knew _why_ he never came back to us…to me…"

Rogue turned the page again, this time revealing a photo of her heavily pregnant mother sleeping on a worn sofa with her head on Logan's lap. Logan didn't seem to notice that his picture was being taken; he was too engrossed in staring lovingly at his wife and stroking her hair. "What-what if the Professor could find a way to bring back Logan's memories? Would you give him a chance?"

Remus stared at the picture in the album. "Of course I would," he said softly. "I think a part of me will always want to forgive him."

"That's all ah want," said Rogue. "Logan's been like a brother or a father to me since ah met him," she admitted. "Ah want to get to know you too, Remus, but ah don't like you two fighting."

Remus smiled gently at her. "I will try, for you," he said. "I can't promise any miracles, but I will try."

Rogue smiled happily up at him, finally meeting his eyes. "Ah can live with that."

* * *

><p><strong>Read &amp; review please! Flames make me sad, so please just don't.<strong>


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